


We'll Have to Muddle Through Somehow

by erisgregory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erisgregory/pseuds/erisgregory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco choose to skip the Christmas break, both staying behind at Hogwarts. In those two peaceful weeks they find themselves working through some of the things that are holding them back and learning that they both have things to offer the other might really need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in December, so I apologize for both the lateness and the Christmas theme. Since this is the first Drarry (or even HP) fic I've written in a very long time I hope you'll go easy on me as I try and work out how I see these two boys in their additional final year in school. Though I expect this fic to be fairly short, I hope you'll enjoy it, as out of season as it may be!

After the last of the cheering and general merry making left with the last of the students going home for Christmas, Hogwarts went still and silent in a way it rarely ever did. Outside the tower window, Draco could see that the snowfall was picking up, blanketing the castle in drifts of white with only a pale gray hint of sun. It should have felt too isolating or dreary even, but he welcomed the peace and quiet of the empty tower. He wasn’t the only eighth year who stayed behind, but the rest were off enjoying their free time and leaving Draco alone with his thoughts for a change.

Living with a mixed house sounded like the worst idea ever, and initially he’d had more than his fair share of anonymous jinxes thrown his way. But as the year got underway, things settled into more of a routine and the other eighth years took less notice of him and paid more attention to graduating. Being ignored suited Draco just fine. He was happy to fall into the background while the rest of the school focused on rebuilding and the bright futures that awaited all of them.

He pulled his knees up under his chin on the chair and leaned his forehead against the chilled glass of the window. When he’d first come to Hogwarts he’d wanted to make a name for himself; wanted everyone to know he was a Malfoy and then vie for his attention. Now he was lucky to not be rotting away in Azkaban with his father. He didn’t need any more fame, he only wanted to get through school and try and figure out what to do with the rest of his life. So far, he hadn’t had even one response to any potential job inquiries, but there was always a nice muggle job like waiting tables or cleaning toilets to look forward to.

Draco closed his eyes, curling tighter into a ball of the chair and sighed. He wasn’t going to worry about that today. If he started thinking too hard about it he’d wind up thinking about his mother all alone for Christmas and well, he wasn’t thinking about it today.

Behind him, on the other side of the room, the door swung open, but he didn’t bother moving. Whoever it was probably couldn’t see him and if they did maybe they’d think he was asleep and leave him be. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

Terry Boot’s voice sounded loud in the cavernous common room. “I just can’t believe they would leave you here, Harry, that’s all. Ron was going on and on about his mum’s cooking and how excited they all were to see you--” 

“No one left me here, I decided to stay so I could work ahead a little. If I ever want to graduate I have to keep at it. No one could argue with that, trust me they all tried.” Harry’s voice sounded tight, almost irritated. Not at all like his usual self. Not that Draco cared or would notice something like that because he didn’t and he wouldn’t and he just wanted them both to go away so he could get back to enjoying the solitude and not thinking about missing his mother for Christmas.

They did leave, disappearing into one of the dorms, voices muffled behind the heavy door to their room. The snow continued to fall outside and Draco drifted in and out of happier memories, when he was little and the Manor was still his home and his mother would smile her rare smile and all was still right in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry woke up early the next morning, first around three, his heart beating too fast even as he lay in the dark telling himself that he was safe, everyone was safe, until he managed to drift back off. Then again at five. At that point he was too wide awake to bother trying for sleep again and even if he hadn’t been, he didn’t want to risk falling back into the dream he’d just been having.

He carefully slipped out of bed, not willing to wake up his remaining dorm mate so early, and gathered his clothes before heading to the bathroom. He passed quietly through the common room, crossing the expanse of the circular room toward the staircase and only stopped for a moment when he saw Malfoy curled up in his robes asleep in one of the great wingback chairs by the expanse of windows on the north side of the room. Malfoy’s brows were pinched together creasing his forehead, his mouth set in a hard thin line. Harry took a step toward him before he realised what he was doing, then quickly turned back away and pulled open the door as silently as possible. Harry didn’t give it too much thought, but the pained look on Malfoy’s face seemed too vulnerable and honest and Harry wished he hadn’t seen it.

The stairs up to the bath were tight, but only twisted around twice before he reached the archway into the little tower off the tower that was converted for the eighth years. Harry didn’t know what the room possibly could have been used for before, but now it held a modest, if a two storied room that housed showers and soaking tubs above and a row of sinks and water closets below could ever be called modest, bathroom. It wasn’t luxurious the way the prefects bathroom was, but it was comfortable. The stone floor was always warm and between the steaming water waiting in the tubs and the small fireplace, the little dormer windows were fogged over, obscuring the still dark sky outside, leaving Harry feeling very secure somehow.

Harry grabbed a towel off one of the hooks in front of him, then took the few steps up to the right to reach the showers. He was sure no one was going to be joining him any time soon, but he still preferred the shower because the bath left him feeling too open, despite privacy curtains and charms. It wasn’t his classmates he was concerned about anyway. It was phantoms, people no longer able to hurt him, forces no longer at work. So he didn’t go for the tubs, but for the shower where he could easily defend himself if need be, and he could also pretend that wasn’t exactly what he was doing. 

He left his clothes hanging just inside the shower, the towel draped over the door. The copper fixtures turned easily enough in Harry’s hands and soon he was standing under a hot cascade of water as he reached for the scented shampoo he preferred. It was citrusy and bright with just a hint of pine maybe, but it smelled clean and alive and helped wash away the last bits of darkness leftover from Harry’s restless night.

Of course being awake and alert meant he could think about the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Eve and instead of being surrounded by people who loved him, he was going to spend it in solitude surrounded by books. It was a means to an end, he’d assured everyone, and they’d believed him, but that wasn’t all of the truth. The truth was, Harry was exhausted. From it all. Even from the things that made him the happiest, like helping rebuild Hogwarts and spending time with his friends, to dealing with his public image and the fact that saving the Wizarding World was only the beginning and not the end of dealing with the Ministry and the press. Even as he tried to finish his schooling in what little privacy Headmistress McGonagall could afford him. It seemed everyone still wanted a piece of him, and it was draining. Harry wanted his friends, who were practically engaged, to enjoy their holiday together. Without worrying about him the way he knew they would. He wasn’t falling apart, nothing so dramatic, he just needed space. And a good dose of peace and quiet, even if it meant missing out on Molly’s fantastic cooking and getting to see the rest of the Weasleys. Just for the remainder of this year, Harry needed some time alone.

He tried to breathe in the scent of the soap as he worked it into his skin, tried to stop thinking about the reasons he’d stayed behind, but his mind didn’t want to settle on anything so mundane as soap or the simple necessity of being clean. Instead his thoughts turned to Malfoy and wondering what kept him from going home. Surely he’d want to see his mother? Or at least take a break from school. If anyone else was working as hard this year as Harry had been trying to, it was Malfoy. Harry hadn’t meant to notice him so much, but he was just there. There across the hall, there in the common room and in almost all of Harry’s classes. He asked for extra work and tutored for fourth year Defence and sixth year potions. If they’d still been any competition to one another it might have driven Harry mad, but they had nothing to do with each other. Everyone in eighth year was too concerned about sitting their N.E.W.T. exams to worry about being the best in class. It just felt like Malfoy was fighting so hard, and it didn’t make much sense to Harry. Or maybe it did, but it left him feeling confused and Harry hated that niggling feeling that seemed to follow him around whenever he noticed Draco these days. Malfoy.

Harry quickly rinsed off, dried himself with much more force than was strictly necessary, dressed while thinking solely about each motion, then hurried down the steps to brush his teeth and get out of the bathroom. Better to be busy than to let his thoughts get the better of him. He was just slipping down the stairs, watching his feet, when he bumped into Malfoy, of course. 

“Sorry, I… didn’t, sorry!” Harry stuttered before biting down on the inside of his cheek. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him, his mouth opening to answer, but Harry brushed past quickly embarrassed by his fumbling and reaction. He didn’t bother checking his bag back in his room, but grabbed it up the moment he had his shoes on, then headed straight for the library. He was supposed to be studying and there was at least another hour he could get in before breakfast.

Safely settled at one of the tables in the library Harry focused on pulling out his books and not on the way his heart pounded or the fact that it felt completely different than the way it had been pounding that morning when he’d first woken up.


	3. Chapter 3

It was amazing what a warm bath and a hot breakfast could do for someone. Nothing miraculous, but Draco did feel better. He breathed just a little easier and he liked the freedom the holiday was affording him. His time was his own and no one else’s. He’d even forgotten the little run in he’d had with Potter that morning. For the most part. No one liked being run down when they were still half asleep.

Though he had to admit, the way Potter had sputtered and apologized had left him smiling just a little during his morning routine. Potter was still the git who lived and saved everyone and was ridiculously famous and doted on, but Draco could see just a little bit of the why behind all of that now. Which of course he would never admit out loud. The thing that confused him though, wasn’t the renown, it was the way Potter kept himself as removed from it as possible. Everyone knew how hard the press was trying to get in to see him, and McGonagall was doing her level best to prevent it. But she didn’t have to, not all of it. Harry could have given an interview or two in his free time, but he didn’t. The only quotes they had from him were from the trials when he’d been accosted at the Ministry. Not a peep from him since. Draco suspected it was because he really didn’t care about any of fame, and it was confusing. And also familiar. Though Draco was much less famous and much more infamous these days, he could at least understand wanting to keep out of the spotlight. Which was also confusing. 

So he didn’t think about it. Once he caught himself doing so. He forced his mind to other concerns, such as where he needed to be right now. It was good there was no one on the staircases just now, because Draco realized he was stopped in the middle between the fourth and fifth floor, just staring absently at the way the staircases led up and up. He probably looked daft. Or suspicious. Besides, doing in this case was better than standing here thinking about it. Where was that good mood he’d just been in anyway? He trudged forward once more, going over a checklist in his mind to keep himself on task.

Draco stopped by the common room to retrieve his notes, then made his way to the Astronomy Tower. The spiral staircase felt too tight, as it always did, and the door too heavy to push by himself. He steeled himself outside the tower, his hand resting on the door, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. He could feel the disruption of magic here, when he held very still and reached for it. Then he pushed through the door and into the room, breathing as steadily as possible and trying not to let his thoughts wander, here of all places. He got to work right away and didn’t think about anything else for hours.

It was growing dark before he left, his wand arm aching and his mind blissfully drained. He felt even better than he had after breakfast, though he’d skipped lunch and was almost too late for dinner. The dorms were empty when he got back so he took time to stash his journal in the bottom of his trunk and wash his hands and face before heading down to the hall.

The Great Hall was still magnificently adorned for Christmas, even if there weren’t very many people left to enjoy it. This year, instead of one enormous tree, there were many much smaller ones, all decorated differently. The decor was still supervised by Professor Flitwick, but it was done entirely by the first year students as a way of welcoming them and also, Draco suspected, a way of ushering in this new era of all the houses working together. Some were beautiful. Richly appointed in house colors or in the more traditional reds and greens or golds and silver. The trees decorated by children who grew up in wizard families were easy to pick out, like the all white one he took his seat by now. It was covered in what looked, and felt like, real snow, with little white fairies peaking out of the branches, huffing and batting at his fingers if he got too close to them. There were two doves nesting at the top and tiny little lights that glowed softly then faded only to return again. Like a heartbeat. Mind you it was completely garish and hard to look directly at, but clearly a magical tribute to peace or some such notion. 

He could just as easily pick out the ones from students who came from muggle families. Much less magic going on and many more handmade ornaments. There was one that was decorated entirely in blue phone boxes, blue really? And stars. He didn’t bother asking because he knew the answer already. Muggles. Still, looking around, he could see the charm to it. It felt like a place for children, because it was. It wasn’t a place for overaged uncertain wizards, yet here he was.

Draco took some of the roast chicken, and a few of the vegetables, but he didn’t feel hungry. He felt like there was something he was supposed to be figuring out. His mood was still relaxed, much better than the past couple of months, but there was something there, just out of his reach, waiting, he felt. He took a sip of cranberry juice and as he lowered his cup his eyes met another’s across the room and held. He set his cup down, but couldn’t look away. Harry’s eyes, Potter’s, looked deep in thought. Not accusatory or embarrassed, just deeply thoughtful and a little like he was seeing something he’d never seen before. Which was ridiculous. So much so that it made Draco scoff to himself and drop his eyes back to his own plate. Potter staring at him wasn’t exactly new, though they’d had very little contact since school began again. He tucked into his dinner and only pressed the back of his hand to his cheek once to see if it really was as hot as it felt. It was.

Potter was nowhere around after dinner which suited Draco just fine. He fell into bed early, exhausted from his day, and dropped off to sleep easily, probably for the first time in months. Somewhere he heard music from one of the other dorms, but it became a part of his dream, one where he was safe and had a purpose and a future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so unbeta'd, all mistakes belonging solely to me.

Harry couldn’t sleep. His thoughts were flying around in no noticeable order and no clear direction. He missed his friends, but was glad he’d sent them off without him. He worried that Molly was worrying about him instead of enjoying the holiday. He thought of school and what he was going to do after the year was over and his N.E.W.T.’s were all behind him. He thought of the work he’d done over the summer and the death eaters that were still at large and of Malfoy as much as he tried not to. All of that was mild compared to the feeling that someone was watching, that danger could be only moments away. He tossed and turned, but no amount of deep breathing or logical reminders about how safe he and his loved was were could take away that cold feeling that was creeping over him, taunting him with the idea that his work was only paused, at the beginning, and that he’d be fighting for safety and freedom the rest of his life.

So he did the only thing he could think to do, and got out of bed. There was no sense torturing himself any longer so he slipped out into the empty common room, where the fire was still cracking low and soft, and he curled up with his blanket on the long brown sofa in front of it. The leather was warm from the heat of the fire and Harry felt instantly steadier just sinking into it. Someone was snoring softly nearby, but everything else was settled and peaceful. The remains of the fire were casting everything in comforting hues of orange and gold and the glass ornaments hanging from the garland on the mantel reflected the light making the whole mantel shimmer in a rainbow of gentle hues.

Harry settled further in, relaxing, and watched the fire get lower and lower. Quite without meaning to, he fell asleep tucked into the corner of the sofa, finally warm with no other thoughts than how beautiful and magical the glowing embers looked as they crackled and cooled and turned to ash.

When he woke, he found himself under a thick duvet, and after only a moment's panic and searching, he found his glasses folded on the end table. He sat up, stretched, and marveled at how well rested he felt. One of the major advantages of being on break was that he didn’t exactly have to worry if he slept in. Though a quickly cast tempus confirmed for him that it was one thing to sleep in a little and another entirely to miss the entirety of breakfast. 

Harry hurried to the Great Hall and found himself almost completely alone. Professor Flitwick and a couple of his students were walking the perimeter of the hall, checking the Christmas trees, Harry thought, and then there was Malfoy, sitting alone, reading a stack of mail while he ate. After another quick glance around, Harry decided to give him as much space as possible and sat near the doors, filling his plate quickly and opening the potions book he’d brought with him. It held his attention long enough to enjoy his omelet, but his eyes began straying, toward Malfoy, halfway through spreading butter and jam on his toast. 

Malfoy’s stack of mail looked almost as impressive as Harry’s was getting to be. His had to be sorted before it was delivered now, a task he was sure some unlucky house elf had been pressed into. Even so, the bags of fan mail or whatever else was there lurking, were lining one side of his room and eventually he was going to have to deal with them. He just couldn’t make himself do it just yet. Malfoy had several stacks himself that he was sorting, then opening, and all of it seemed very methodical. Most of them ended up to the left of him, but two he placed to the right. Harry had no way of knowing which was the discard pile, if one existed, and he realized he’d been staring long enough that his coffee was gone cold, as was the toast he was still holding, covered only part way in jam.

Across the hall, Malfoy was finished with his breakfast and he gathered his mail and began walking toward Harry. Toward the doors. So Harry very ineffectively tried to be unnoticeable. He could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him as he passed, but refused to let himself look up.He was going to eat this stupid cold toast not matter what. That failed too and his eyes flicked up to meet Malfoy’s just before he left.

He looked…

Concerned would probably be a good way to describe it, but Harry couldn’t help thinking the word, haunted, several times over before he realized he was getting up and hurrying toward the doors. After Malfoy. Who seemed so haunted. 

He only debated it a moment, then was through the doors, searching around until he saw Malfoy disappearing up the stairs. It was strange to feel this familiar sensation bubbling up in him as he followed. Close, but not close enough to be noticed. At least there were others on the stairs, coming and going. Thankfully no one tried to say hello to Harry as he climbed. Malfoy was going all the way to the top it seemed. so that’s where Harry was going to follow.

When they reached the top, Harry hung back, watching which way Malfoy turned. His heart was racing and not from the climb. It felt equal parts exciting and wrong, especially considering that Malfoy seemed upset and was probably just looking to be left alone. Much like Harry wanted. He couldn’t explain or excuse why he thought he could be any help, he just acted.

Malfoy was heading for the Astronomy Tower, but that didn’t feel right to Harry. He couldn’t imagine why Draco would want to be there, after everything, but as he peered around the corner he could just see Malfoy entering the door and it swinging shut behind him.

Harry waited a couple of minutes, but continued forward, reaching the door and finding it locked. “Alohomora.” He whispered, swishing his wand and getting nothing. The door was locked tight still. He tried it again, and he even went as far as trying to listen through it, but he was getting nowhere and the longer he stood outside the door the more ridiculous he felt. If Malfoy wanted to go be haunted or sad in the Astronomy Tower, then it wasn’t any of Harry’s business. This wasn’t a repeat of sixth year. He’d defended Malfoy during his trial and even returned his wand. They were nothing to each other now and he certainly didn’t need Harry checking in on him and lurking around like before. So he left. Quiet and full of shame, Harry turned and walked back down all the way to the library where he was supposed to be spending his time studying for the Potions N.E.W.T. exam.

Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed and he wasn’t about to check now, not when he was finally on a roll. His parchment was almost two feet of notes and he was sure even Hermione would be proud. The key was tucking himself into a dark corner away from any of the outside windows or any of the more frequented sections. Not that there were many people left to disturb him, it was more a matter of keeping himself focused. He’d worry about finding food later, as long as he could keep going he was going to.

Of course that was exactly when he did get interrupted by Malfoy as he came around the stack then stood stock still, almost no expression on his face. He hesitated there and Harry didn’t say anything and it was starting to feel really awkward. So much so that Harry began to roll his scroll and Draco was taking a step back. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else knew this table was here,” Malfoy said.

“It’s alright, I’m probably done for the day anyway, I’ll just--”

“No, I’ll go, I can--”

“Or you could sit and we could both just shut up.” Harry offered.

Draco deliberated briefly and then gave a single sharp no of his head before sitting down, diagonally from Harry. It was hard to concentrate with Malfoy there at first. Harry was very aware of him as he pulled several books from his bag, followed by his quill. Once he settled and a hush fell back over the table, Harry was able to work for a while without being distracted.

When he reaches the end of his parchment, Harry is reluctant to leave. Here is Malfoy, working quietly across from him and it feels like he should say something. Check in on him. Definitely not ask what he was doing up in the Astronomy Tower, because that was way out of line. Malfoy paused in his writing and lifted his head, his eyes meeting Harry’s. Harry blinked a couple of times, ashamed of being caught staring, and went back to reading his Potions book. Pretending to read of course because now he was very distracted.

Eventually Malfoy’s quill was back to scritching in the journal he had with him, and when Harry glanced up again, his head was bent further over, leaning on his left hand as he wrote. 

“What?” Malfoy looked up with a sigh and Harry felt his cheeks go hot at being caught staring again.

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head.

“It must be something, you’re staring at me. You’ve been staring at me off and on since I sat down.” Draco set his quill aside and closed his journal, leaning back. He folded his hands on the table and just, waited.

Harry took a breath but he had nothing, so his thoughts cast around for anything that might make more sense than wondering if Malfoy was trying to punish himself some way by going to the tower.

“I, uh, was just wondering how things are going?” He hadn’t meant it to be a question, but there it was. Merlin he was an idiot.

“You sure?” Draco asked, but now his mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Yes.” Harry said it with as much authority as he could.

“I’m well, Potter. I’m the top of our class. Satisfied?” Malfoy arched an eyebrow at him, his voice dripping with disdain. 

“Yeah, great, that’s great.” Harry wanted to hide. His palms had gone clammy and he shifted in his seat.

“Well, if we’re done here, I’m going to find a late lunch and let you get back to whatever it was you were working on.” Malfoy stood, shoving his things back into his carryall and giving Harry a final confused expression before turning to leave.

Harry thought he should maybe say goodbye, but then Malfoy was disappearing into the stacks and he was left feeling like a complete and utter berk. It was just as well that Malfoy was gone before Harry could make things even more uncomfortable. He didn’t know why he couldn’t maintain some semblance of control around Malfoy, but he suspected he was falling into old bad habits, as Hermione would say.

He tucked his own things away and left the library and his mystifying encounter with Malfoy behind. From somewhere far away, the distant strains of an old Christmas carol could be heard, but it was so faint, Harry couldn’t quite make it out. It helped him settle in himself, though, as he walked, and by the time he reached the common room, he didn’t feel nearly as off balance as before.


End file.
